The Fangirl Mentality
by BlueWolf1923
Summary: "Sherlock, why do they think we're gay?" Written as one of John's blog entries. Sherlock/Molly.


_Normally I don't write oneshots, but this idea was floating around in my head for a while now, and the only way to get it out was to write it. I hope you like it. -BW_

X

It's been bugging me for a while now. Mary and I have been engaged, married, and are now eagerly awaiting our first child. We're happily in love, despite the... complications we went through with Magnussen.

And yet, somewhere out there is a horde of fangirls who insist that I'm actually gay, in love with Sherlock, and should abandon my beloved wife at the soonest convenience.

I can't wrap my head around it to save my own life, but I happen to know someone who can help me with it. My closest friend and former flatmate, Sherlock Holmes.

...

When I wrote those three lines up there, I rather imagined I'd ask him with some measure of dignity. That simply didn't happen. No, I walked into 221 Baker Street, greeted Mrs. Hudson with a polite smile, continued on my merry way into 221B, opened the door and said, "Sherlock, why do they think we're gay?"

I didn't even take the time to spot him in the bloody room, but fortunately he was in. Looking back I can't say I'm surprised. It's not like he gets out much, particularly since that little _"Did you miss me?" _incident. So there he was, examining the clip of Moriarty again on his laptop.

"Because they want us to be," Sherlock replied simply, then returned his attention to the clip. "Now get out; I'm busy."

"Sherlock, I'm serious. Help me with this."

Sherlock didn't sigh. He's much too dignified to sigh, or perhaps it's better to say he doesn't want to waste the time and energy to make a disappointed noise, with the exception of when he's deducing every little scrap of negativity in a person's life, then calmly spitting it in their face.

Instead, Sherlock shut his laptop, and began to talk.

"_They_, in this context, refers specifically to the demographic of young women primarily aged thirteen to twenty who read your blog. Having seen us both on the news, they've generally come to agree that we're both attractive. In short, they fantasize about us. By pretending or imagining that we're gay, they find an excuse to fantasize about us both at the same time."

I had been prepared for a much more complex answer that I would _barely _understand if at all. This is Sherlock Holmes I'm dealing with, after all. This, however, wasn't what I expected, and as such I really couldn't immediately come up with a concise, coherent response.

So I just said, "They fantasize about us? Sherlock, you're telling me that thirteen-year-old girls are out there-"

"Probably thinking about us right now. Given the size of our 'fandom,' there are probably a significant number of young women out there, reading your blog right now, thinking about us being gay."

"And that doesn't bloody bother you!?"

"It's not important." Sherlock tapped the lid of his laptop with his finger. "I have bigger problems, namely figuring out who's claiming to be Moriarty and why. Now get out; I'm busy," he repeated.

But of course that wasn't enough for me. "Er... one more question. Is there anything we... _I _can do about this?"

"You're married and expecting a child. There's nothing more you can do." Sherlock's calmness about this was really starting to annoy me by this point, and as usual I heard his voice echoing deeper in my mind, _Punch me in the face, John. Right here, side of my jaw. _As per usual, it was tempting, but instead I let Sherlock finish. "You see, the fangirls have mostly decided that your relationship with Mary is just you being in denial. They're under the impression that you're 'still in the closet.'"

"So there's nothing I can do to make them stop?"

"Nope," he hummed. Good God, it was like he found it funny. "Then again, if I were to somehow get a girlfriend, that would definitely be the nail in the coffin."

Bingo.

I really couldn't help but break into a grin, particularly when I saw him reaching for a glass of water next to his laptop. He brought it to his lips, took a sip, and I chose this glorious moment to strike.

"Then go ask Molly out."

Sherlock coughed and spewed water across his laptop and the desk it sat on. God, I wish I'd recorded that. No one would believe me if I just _told _them he did it, but if I had a _recording_...

"Wh-What!?" Sherlock exploded, with a hint of a stammer in his voice. Sherlock _never _stammers.

I was starting to like where this was going. "You know that pupil-dilating thing you mentioned after the Adler case? Your eyes never dilate when you look at me, so I know you're not _actually _gay, or at least you're not interested in me. But _Molly_..."

"You're bluffing," he acccused. "You're not me, you wouldn't notice something like that."

"Sherlock, we've been friends for four years. Is it that hard to imagine that you rubbed off on me a little? Your pupils dilate when Molly's around; take my word for it."

"...Well what are you suggesting I do about it?" the mighty consulting detective huffed. If I didn't know better, I'd almost say he sounded _flustered_. "Are you really trying to tell me that I have _feelings _for Molly Hooper, that _I _never noticed and _you _did?"

"Well when you put it like that... yep."

Sherlock remained silent for several seconds, and I think he did that 'mind palace' thing, because he closed his eyes and did that thing with his hands that he does when he's thinking quietly. Then he flipped open his laptop... and shut it down.

The next thing I knew, he was wrapping his scarf around his neck, then reaching for his coat. He actually made it all the way to the patented Sherlock Holmes Collar Pop before he saw fit to open his mouth again.

"Fine. I'm off, then," he said.

I freely admit that this statement perplexed me even more that it should've. I actually let Sherlock walk right by me and out the door of 221B before I even managed to ask, "Where are you going?"

"To Molly Hooper's house. Use your brain, John, you just proved to me that you have one!" he finished with a shout, having already made it to the door of 221. "Taxi!" I heard him call, and as if on some sort of magical cue, I also heard the sound of a car stopping right in front of 221.

I followed him. Of course I bloody followed him, can you honestly tell me you wouldn't want to see Sherlock Holmes trying to ask a girl out for the first time? And of course I would make sure to take a video of it too. It's going on YouTube, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

So I got in a cab, told the driver to follow the identical cab in front of us, and although I'm sure Sherlock knew he was being followed, at the time I really couldn't care less. The drive to Molly Hooper's flat was much shorter than I'd expected, maybe twelve minutes. It felt like more than ten and less than fifteen, so twelve is where I'd place it.

I told the cab driver to stop in view of Molly's front door, but of course I'd make a little effort to be subtle. I had him park the cab three doors down, then I rolled down the window and started recording. With the volume cranked, I got plenty of static and windy sounds, but they were talking just loud enough for me to make out what they were saying.

Naturally, Molly was more than a little surprised to see him there, and you'll see as much when I upload the video. "Sherlock? What are you doing here?"

"Molly, I need your help." For some reason this statement seemed to scare her, and she took a step back. Judging from his tone of voice, Sherlock must've realized that. "Don't worry, it's not like last time." Ah, right. Apparently Molly had some kind of hand in faking Sherlock's death. "Can you tell me what sort of thing makes for a 'romantic night out?'"

Over the requisite static and windy noises, I could just barely make out the sound of Molly sighing. "Is it about that girl who gave you the cell phone?"

"Who?"

"The one who 'likes to play games,'" Molly elaborated. "You never told me her name. The one who texts you and your phone has an orgasm." I really couldn't help but giggle at that.

"Oh. Irene Adler. She's on the other side of the world, but I do still have that phone. If I wanted to know what _she _considered romantic, I'd ask her with a text."

"So..." she can be heard pausing for a few moments, and I honestly thought I'd lost the audio for a moment there, but she continues, "...is it... John, then?" Once again, I giggled.

"Likewise, if I wanted his opinion then I'd ask him."

"Then... who?"

"Molly, you have a brain. I know you can use it; I've seen you do it before, so work with me here."

"Who else is there? The orgasm phone girl and John. Those are the only two-"

"Oh bloody hell."

And then he kissed her.

Sherlock Holmes kissed a girl.

And I have it on camera. Maybe this'll finally settle you lot down...

But here's the best part. I was bluffing about the pupil-dilating thing, Sherlock. I'm sure you're going to read this at some point, and you'll likely see the video too, but I think you should know that you were right. There's no way I'd ever notice your pupils being bigger than normal when Molly's around. All I had was a hunch.


End file.
